


Lust and Blood

by TheClassics4



Series: Father Joseph x Hiero [1]
Category: Operation: Endgame (2010), The Tournament (2009)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClassics4/pseuds/TheClassics4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange young woman confesses to Father Macavoy and he gives into his desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lust and Blood

Father Joseph Macavoy sat in the confessional booth, waiting patiently. His parish was never one to be up at the crack of dawn just for salvation’s sake. So, with a shaky hand, he felt around for the flask in his pocket and shook it, though he already knew it was full.

The sloshing sound made him grin. Like an old friend was visiting him. When he unscrewed the cap, he sighed as he took a few long gulps. Sitting back, he closed his eyes, taking yet another drink. The alcohol made his hand shake, but he was steady enough to sip just a few more times.

Then, he heard the clacking of heels and the opening of the other confessional door. Joseph rushed to put the flask away as if they would be able to see him and in his haste, he spilled the alcohol all over the front of his pants.

“Bless me, Father. For I have sinned.”

“Uh,” he said, trying to wipe away the wetness in his lap, “And how long since you’ve last confessed?”

“Two weeks,” the female voice said certainly. She must not have been local. He would have recognized the southern accent. “I’ve broken a serious commandment.”

Of course. Joseph tried not to judge, he really did. But the woman who’d just walked in sounded like she would be very beautiful. Not that everyone didn’t make mistakes now and again, he certainly was no saint. But a beautiful woman wouldn’t come to the confessional having broken a serious mistake if it wasn’t actually something serious.

“And which commandment have you broken.”

“I’ve taken a life,” the woman said. She sounded so strangely matter-of-fact that Joseph thought he might have heard her wrong.

“Um…” he swallowed, “You—you…”

“I’ve killed someone.”

“I see,” Joseph said, staring at the door of the confession. No one had ever confessed this particular sin to him. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond or react. Surely, he must have gotten some kind of instruction at the seminary on what to do in this position. But no matter how far back he thought, he could think of nothing for this. His hands fidgeted in his lap, feeling sticky and itching from the wet material.

“Father?”

“Um. Well, was it self-defense?”

“Well…I guess you could say that. I was comin’ home from dinner and this jackass thought it would be funny to feel me up. He slapped my bum and I might have overreacted. Just a bit.”

“Yes, that…is—”

“Father, are you drinkin’ in there!?” the woman exclaimed. The sound of the door opened and before he could protest, his own door was flung wide open. A blonde woman stood in front of him, her hands on her hips while she looked him over. She was blonde and he’d been right; she was very beautiful.

Her face was scrunched into a little pout and she took a step inside, “I could smell the vodka on you, darlin’. Now, please, don’t tell me you were drinkin’ in the house of the lord.” She reached down to pat at his lap, where it was wet and he flinched.

The woman noticed and straightened up, with a little smirk. “Do you think I’m attractive?”

“Uh…what?”

“You got a bit flushed when I touched your cock,” she said, looking at his crotch. Immediately, he crossed his legs to hide the fact that her fingers had, indeed, stirred something in his groin. “Then again, being a holy man, I’m guessin’ it hasn’t been touched a lot. It might be a bit sensitive.”

Joseph was silent. He’d never met such a woman. First she confesses to murder, then chides him for drinking, and now was ogling at the growing bulge in his pants. He was blushing furiously, but he couldn’t control his body. It was like he was fifteen years old again.

The woman just smiled and settled against the side of the confessional. “So what do I have to do to be forgiven?”

Torn between telling her the truth or lying to make her leave, Joseph shook his head, “Well, murder is a very serious thing.”

“Murder? No, that bastard had it comin’ to him,” she said. “He followed me home after he grabbed me. That was when I snapped.”

She was looking at his lap again and she took a step inside. Kneeling before him, she put her arms on his knees. “I really do feel terrible about it. He screamed somethin’ awful. I just couldn’t stop myself.”

It wasn’t hard for Joseph to imagine this strange woman killing someone. Killing very violently with her own two hands. Still, the only image that came to his mind was of her sitting atop him, straddling his hips, moaning his name. He swallowed, wishing he could reach for the flask, but something told him that might upset her. That was the last thing he wished to do.

“You never did tell me,” she smirked running her fingers along the side of his leg, “if you thought I was attractive.”

“Very,” Joseph had said before he could think that was not the appropriate response. She giggled and settled herself closer to him, pressing her chest against his knees.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” Her eyes gazed over his features, making him blush more deeply. “Do you want to come out here and sit with me?”

“Oh, I—” he started, but the woman pulled herself further into the confessional, practically climbing into his lap. Extremely aware of how quickly he was hardening, he tried to push himself backward, but he was pressed back as far as the small wood box would allow.

Gently, she pressed a kiss to the underside of his chin. Her leg came up between his thighs and, had she not been kissing him in such a manner, he might have thought it an accident. “I, uh—”

“Sh,” she cooed and trailed her lips over his Adam’s apple. 

“I—I can’t,” he finally managed and she only stopped when he put a hand on her arm. With a look of innocence, she pulled back only to look between his legs.

“You don’t want to?” she teased.

“I mean that…” he swallowed and forced himself to finish the sentence, “I shouldn’t.”

“You mean because you’re a holy man?” Her smile spread a little wider and she leaned back in, “Honey, we’re all considered ‘holy’ if we believe in Jesus. Doesn’t mean we have to be saints. I mean look at me. I’ve done terrible things.”

“Yes, you’ve told me,” Joseph breathed out.

“No, not all of them,” her tongue flicked out again before she kissed the wet skin. “I’ve taken so many lives, I don’t even think I could tell you just how many.”

Joseph found his fingers in her hair and swiftly yanked them away, “Maybe, you should—” This time, she deliberately nudged his cock with her knee, and she laughed, licking his throat one more time.

“I’m tryin’ to repent of my sins, Father. Don't interrupt,” she said, fisting her fingers in his hair and pulling his head back to rub her nose against his stubble. “I do have to admit that I like seein’ people go. Just one minute they’re there and the next…gone. Is that a sin? Watching people die?”

Wordlessly, he nodded.

“Oh, dear,” she sighed, pulling herself even closer to wrap her arms around him. She’d planted herself directly onto his lap, rubbing just enough to make his leg jerk. It kicked against the wood with a loud bang and the woman atop him frowned. “It’s stuffy in here. Come sit with me.”

“I think it would be best if I stayed—”

This time, her lips pressed to his. It was gentle, but deep enough to have him feel like he were melting and when she stood, he went without protest and allowed the woman to pull him from the confessional.

He bent over, his free hand in his pocket trying desperately to conceal how hard he’d grown. She sat him down on the floor beside the nearest pew and flitted away to lock the main doors.

“What’s your name?” she asked, slowly flicking the bolt shut.

“Joseph,” he answered.

“Well, Joseph, I’m Hiero,” she said and plopped down next to him. He could see now that she wore a little gold crucifix around her neck, matching the one he wore on his wrist.

“You know,” she mused, fingering the little chain when she saw him looking at it, “I do love my lord Jesus Christ, but I am only human. And make mistakes.” Slowly, Hiero leaned in to rest her chin on his shoulder. “Does God forgive priests?”

“I hope so,” he muttered, barely getting the words out before she was kissing him.

Her hands slipped into his hair and immediately, he was kissing her back. His tongue toyed with her lips, desperate to taste her.

He’d never kissed a woman in such a manner before. There had been few girls in his adolescence and even fewer actual physical moments. His hands were uncertain, but she knew enough for the two of them.

This woman—this Hiero—kissed him eagerly, making soft noises as she slipped her hands beneath his jacket. This was all wrong and he knew he should stop her now. What they were doing was an abomination and a sin. He should know better than anyone what sin did to the soul, but he still shrugged his jacket off at her guidance and let her start to undo his buttons.

Finally, he was left bare from the waist up and she pulled back and giggled at him, “You’re a little thing, aren’t you?” she said, tweaking his nipple.

Blushing, he smiled, looking away as he attempted to flirt with her, “You’re one to talk.” She was even tinier than him, only coming up to his shoulder and probably not weighing more than 120 pounds. Hiero laughed again, leaning to kiss him on the shoulder as she moved to straddle him.

Joseph watched, eyes wide as she slipped the red cardigan from her shoulders, “You ever seen a woman, Joseph?”

Shaking his head, he licked his lips. She was starting on her own buttons and where she sat in his lap put agonizing pressure on his already throbbing cock. She wore a red lacy bra and Joseph was barely able to ready himself before she had it unclipped and on the ground next to him.

“Here,” she said quietly, bringing his hand away from the floor to touch her. Her skin burned hot under his palm and a lump in his throat made a very strangled sound when he tried to swallow. She smiled at him, an almost loving smile, but when she leaned to kiss him, her teeth sunk angrily into his bottom lip. He groaned at the sharp pain and she released him, only to lick the spot.

Hiero smacked her lips together and Joseph could swear he saw a glint of blood on her already painted lips. “I’m sorry. I get a little excited.”

He smiled at her dumbly, barely even feeling the sting of where her teeth had been. “S’alright.”

His hand still covered her breast and she took his hand away to wipe one of his fingers along his lip. As he suspected, she had made him bleed. It was not much, but there was still a smear of crimson on his finger when she slipped it into her mouth.

The image of her sucking his finger made him shudder. If only he could pull his hand away and let her lick the part of him he really wanted. Hiero pulled back with one last lick to his finger and gave him a playful look, showing that she knew exactly what he was wishing for.

This time, when she bit him, it wasn’t as hard. She licked the place again where she’d first drawn blood, but hadn’t gotten too carried away. She eased Joseph down onto the wood floor as she kissed down his chest.

She slipped down him, biting occasionally before reaching his belt. Joseph tried desperately to catch his breath, but she quickly exposed his cock and was pumping her little fist up him before he could form a thought. He ground his heels down, grinding his head back, waiting for her lips to wrap around it, but it was only her fingers around him. And that was how it stayed.

When he looked up at her, Hiero was looking at it with a kind of dreamy look. She noticed him and smiled. A devious little smirk that had him shaking. “I’m just tryin’ to decide exactly how sinful I want to be today. I mean, I already broke one commandment today.”

Joseph was panting, just with just her fingers around him, and he could barely concentrate on her words. Her accent slurred them together and when she snaked back up his body, he moaned, kissing her again. Her fingers released him to work on the zipper on the side of her skirt, but her teeth stayed on him the entire time. Whatever she did to him, he would be grateful.

A few times, she bit him again hard enough to be painful, but he couldn’t have cared. This was the first time—and probably the last time—he had ever been with a woman. He wouldn’t have cared if she’d tied him with her crucifix to the steeple and rode him for the entire world to see.

Finally, Hiero had freed herself from her skirt and panties. She brushed against the head of his cock with the slick skin between her legs and he moaned, making her giggle. “You’re adorable,” she cooed and kissed him again, lightly on the lips.

Then, without a warning, she sunk down onto him. Joseph could do nothing but whimper, the feeling almost too much to bear. The sensation was so new, so hot, so wet and when she moved, first sliding up him, then back down, he threw his head back, cracking it against the hard floor. Hiero was leaning over him, the small cross dangling down in front of his eyes and he knew when this was done he would regret this. He would drink away his guilt, he would fall to his knees and beg God for forgiveness, but now, as this woman’s body joined with his, he could only say His name in vain, calling out to His Father in heaven as she bit down on his neck.

Joseph would have never thought there could be more, but the more she continued to move, he could feel something building inside him. Hiero’s body tugged at him, pulling him deeper inside her and it was like the snap of a rubber band. He spasmed below her, shuddering and convulsing. All of it pleasure and he could hear her maniacal giggling above the ringing in his ears. 

When he managed to open his eyes, the image seared into his brain. She was above him, mouth open, one hand on his chest, the other rubbing between her legs. It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen and the golden sparkle against her chest just added to the wonder of it. He was almost glad he’d climaxed before her, so he could see that it was just as powerful for her. She winced, biting her bottom lip, sinking down one last time with such force that it sparked a bit of his own pleasure back to him.

It almost looked like pain, but knew it must be what he'd felt himself. He wondered at all if this strange woman could even feel pain. Obviously she could feel pleasure.

When she finally relaxed around him, he saw she had drawn blood on her own lip this time. She licked it away, barely flicking her tongue out of her lips, but he could still see her teeth were stained red when she smiled. She kissed him and the taste of her blood almost made him gag. He concentrated on the fact he was still sheathed inside her and when she pulled away, he was longing to keep her mouth to his.

“I gotta go, darling,” she whispered when he tried to kiss her again. Hiero pulled herself off him and gathered the clothing from the floor. Joseph pushed himself to a sitting position and watched her.

“A-Are you going to come back?” he asked, scared of what her answer might be.

Hiero stopped buttoning her blouse and leaned her head to the side, “I dunno, maybe. But I gotta go find a new priest. Not that this wasn’t fun and all, but…it doesn’t change the fact that there’s a new sin to add to my confession.” She gave him a small look, almost of regret, but then it softened. “You really are adorable.”

And she was gone. The echo of her little heels fading into a drowning silence that left Joseph’s chest tight.

Falling back to the ground, he coughted as the reality of what he’d done hit him. His vow of chastity was completely shattered. With a woman he’d never met before, didn’t care for, who was a murderer for God’s sake. He was supposed to be a man of God. A man of purity. And he’d given God up for nothing.

Slowly, numbly, he gathered his clothing and retreated to the confessional to dress. Inside, he sunk to his knees, barely daring to mutter His Father’s name after such a display. Silently, he wept, thinking of what His Father must have thought of him. Joseph was a despicable excuse for a priest and He knew it. He slumped against the small bench of the confessional and reached inside his pocket for the flask.

Unscrewing the small cap, Joseph thanked God—or whoever it was he served now—that there was enough to drink away this memory.


End file.
